To Where You Are
by lighthope
Summary: [One-shot; prequel to "Take Me Away"] What will Hermione do when Voldemort takes everyone she loves away... especially her fiancé? And how will Harry survive Azkaban? R&R to find out! (H-Hr)


My author's notes (these tend to get long, so hang on):

-If you have read "Take Me Away," this is the immediate prequel. If you haven't, then that's okay too! You can read it after this. :D I wrote this story in direct response to the reviews asking me for the backstory of "Take Me Away." This is the result.

-This fic uses song lyrics from Josh Groban's "To Where You Are" (_italics_) and Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey's "Where You Are" (**bold**).

-Anything you see underlined deserve better explanations (except the title, of course :D) than given, which will be explained after you read the story.

-Takes place in Harry/Ron/Hermione's seventh year.

-Nothing is mine. Except a few things that are underlined (which will be explained later).

-Enjoy! And review! I tried to stay as close to canon as possible while still making the story mine. Tell me how I did.

* * *

To Where You Are

The stars shone gently down on the castle, that early December night. But for the Head Girl of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, sadly, the events of that fateful night could not be assumed as gentle. Far from it. She sat, pensively, staring blankly into the fire that roared in the Head Boy and Girl common room, wondering how it could have happened. He had just… he had just disappeared. The Boy Who Lived, considered to be the next greatest wizard in their time (apart from Dumbledore, of course), had just… disappeared. Without fight, without struggle.

Hermione Granger laughed at the thought. She knew that he had fought, fought valiantly. Of course, no one was there to witness it, apart from probably the Dark Lord and his minions. Still, though, she recalled this morning, when all of it had begun…

Hermione woke, stirring in her bed. Actually, she thought, blushing, it wasn't her bed—rather, it was the Head Boy's bed. She grinned to herself as she thought of the exact reason _why_ she was sharing a bed with Harry Potter. But her smile vanished when she realized he wasn't there. He wouldn't do something like that to her, just leave her like that. She shrugged it off as him probably being in the bathroom, taking a shower. So she waited around for him to come out.

Waited, and waited. By the time she knew breakfast was over and lunch was about to begin, and Harry still didn't show up, she knew something was wrong. So, getting herself ready, she wandered out of the Head Boy and Girl room and proceeded to go out and find him, when she realized the halls were quite empty. _Come on, Mione, it's a weekend. Plus, everyone's probably over at the Great Hall, anyway._ But somehow, she couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something off.

Hermione made her way to the Great Hall to eat—for her stomach was protesting at the lack of food it had received—and the news that was waiting for her there changed her life.

"He's just disappeared," Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of the school, stated simply, the sadness prominent in his eyes.

"How?" Hermione asked, her logical mind still working even though she had received the devastating news that her fiancé had just disappeared. "No one can Apparate or Disapparate off these grounds, and Voldemort isn't stupid enough to just appear and take him."

"Your analysis is correct, Miss Granger," Dumbledore agreed. "However, we have no accurate explanation as to what has happened to him. We think that Voldemort has broken into Harry's mind, and put the Imperius curse on him, so that he can do the Dark Lord's bidding."

"Do you know…" Hermione was almost at a sob. "Do you know where they might have taken him?"

"It is anybody's guess. I have my spies out looking, but he seems to trust nobody with this task. He is not underestimating for one second the power of your fiancé."

Hermione blushed. They hadn't told anyone except for Ron and Ginny about the engagement. They figured that with everything going on, that was an unneeded distraction. She smiled faintly at the thought of Harry, but then her smile vanished as she realized what Dumbledore was saying. "So… for all we know… he could be dead?"

There was an odd glint in Dumbledore's eyes. "It is a survival instinct to assume the worst, Miss Granger, but you do realize that this is no ordinary boy. Harry Potter is The Boy Who Lived."

Those words echoed in her head as she sat in front of the fireplace, not caring anymore. Harry was her world, her inspiration, and not because of the fact that he had the fame, the talent, and the fortune—it was because of the way he looked at her, his lopsided smile, the way he listened to her, even if no one else wanted to, the way he held her… his sincerity, generosity, and the fact that at the age of seventeen, he had been through more than possibly any other wizard, and she was there to support him, no matter what.

Out of her peripheral vision, something caught her eye, and she was startled out of her thoughts. She looked down at the offending object and when she saw it, tears welled up in her eyes again. It was her engagement ring, sparkling brilliantly, reflecting the happy, dancing flames. At this moment, she wished with all her heart that Harry would just be there with her, but she could feel his spirit… somehow.

_Who can say for certain?_

_Maybe you're still here_

_I feel you around me, your memory so clear_

_Deep in the stillness, I can hear you speak_

_You're still an inspiration_

_Can it be that you are mine, forever, love?_

_And you are watching over me from up above?_

_---_

**Take me where you are,**

**Where you and I will breathe together once again**

**We'll be dancing in the moonlight just like we used to do**

**And you'll be smiling back at me**

**Only then will I be free,**

**When I can be where you are**

Harry thrashed wildly, trying to escape the coldness that surrounded him. He was in Azkaban, the wizarding prison, even though he had done nothing wrong. The dementors – the Azkaban guards – had completely come to Voldemort's side and after the Dark Lord had gotten a hold of Harry, he had handed him over to the dark, evil creatures, whom he had managed to fight with his Patronus, but still wasn't strong enough to escape. Now, he fought with all his will to try and keep the dementors away, by focusing on happy thoughts… like Hermione. It was quite a struggle, as his boggart turned into a dementor – it was the thing he feared the most.

He couldn't even begin to understand what she was going through right now. The two of them were inseparable, and even just a few hours away from each other (except, maybe, when he was playing Quidditch and she was reading) were intolerable for the both of them. He hoped that she realized that he would never leave her, and that she was his only hope of surviving this torture he was being put through.

All sanity and all cheerfulness was leaving Harry, but he remained focused on one thing: his beautiful fiancée, and her smile that lit the way, even when there seemed to be no hope. He wished he could see it physically, just to know she was still there, that he wouldn't lose her – she was the one thing he couldn't bear to lose. Sadly, he looked up to the tiny sliver of night sky he could see from his cell, and focused on the tiny light he could barely see. It gave him hope as his consciousness slipped from him. He could barely see it, but he knew it was there… and knowing the light was still there made all the difference in the world.

_Fly me up to where you are,_

_Beyond the distant star_

_I wish upon tonight to see you smile_

_If only for a while, to know you're there_

_A breath's away not far to where you are_

**And I can see your face**

**Your kiss I still can taste,**

**Not a memory erased**

**Oh, I see your star shining down on me**

**And I'd do anything if I could just be right there where you are…**

Hermione gazed sadly out the common room windows into the night sky, and into the stars, as she stroked her cat, Crookshanks. She sighed, again, for what seemed like the millionth time in the short span of time she had been submerged in this state. She had a great deal of homework – the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests (N.E.W.T.s) were coming up, which would determine how well she would do in her chosen career field after leaving school this year – but she didn't care. Of course, anyone who knew Hermione Granger would know that something was horribly wrong with her; she usually studied very diligently for all her exams and classes.

Ever the logical mind, Hermione realized that no one had come to ask her what was wrong, and she expected better than that from her friends, at least, from Ron and Ginny Weasley. The siblings were good friends of both Harry and Hermione, and were no doubt missing Harry as well. But now that Hermione thought about it, she wondered why no one was here, attempting to comfort her. She hadn't sent them off, angrily, wishing to be alone… she just was. Hastily, she made herself decent and flew out of the Head Boy and Girl unit, making her way down to Gryffindor Tower.

It was the dead of night, Hermione was then reminded, when she found the corridors empty. She assumed that Ron and Ginny, along with Neville Longbottom, another good friend of theirs (and more recently, Ginny's boyfriend), might be sleeping, but she then remembered how when circumstances were dire, sleep was not a priority. _This would definitely classify as a dire circumstance_, she thought bitterly, as she approached the Fat Lady.

"Hello, dear," the Fat Lady said, smiling fondly at Hermione. "What brings you here at this time of night?"

"I need to see my friends," Hermione said firmly. "Pixie dust," she then spoke, the password for access to Gryffindor Tower.

"Correct," the Fat Lady said, swinging open. "But if I may warn you… you might not find them there."

"What?" Hermione shrieked, so loudly that the portraits surrounding the Fat Lady mumbled grouchily, being irritated from woken from slumber.

The Fat Lady sighed audibly, not unlike what Hermione had been doing lately. "Yes, my dear. Many of your friends have… well… see for yourself."

In a state of shock, Hermione scrambled through the small round hole that was the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. She had hoped to find a few of her closest friends in the best armchairs by the fire, maybe trying to fight off sleep with a hand lazily hanging off the side of one of the chairs… but it was eerily empty. Even the fire was dying out. Hoping that it wasn't true, she raced up the stairs to the boys' dormitory and flung open the seventh years' door. There were only four beds in here, as opposed to the usual five, due to Harry's Head Boyship. But, in that same eerie fashion, only two of the beds were occupied. She didn't know which one belonged to whom, until she heard a muttering of "No, don't make me dance with the cabbage!" That made Hermione smile, her first real one all day. However, it faded quickly when she realized that it was Seamus Finnigan's voice, and not Ron or Neville's. She looked quickly at the other occupied bed and saw a dark-skinned hand dangling off the side of it. Her worst fears confirmed, she put a hand over her mouth to stop herself from sobbing, and ran out of the dormitory. She sprinted down the stairs and back up now more familiar steps to the girls' dorms.

Hoping that at least the girls were okay, Hermione desperately opened the sixth years' door, and again, found an empty bed. Fearing the worst, she fell to her knees at the trunk in front of the bed, to confirm what she already knew. "Lumos minimosa," she whispered, and a tiny light, just enough to view the contents of the trunk, but not enough to wake the sleeping girls, appeared. Sure enough, the name on the trunk read "Ginerva M. Weasley." Tears now forming in her eyes, she went further down the hallway to the seventh year dorms, where she should have been if she wasn't Head Girl. Half expecting to find empty beds, she half-sighed in relief to find four occupied beds. However, her relief turned again to sorrow – after the people who were gone, these were the only people Hermione had left. Finally, she let the tears fall, and sat on the end of one of the beds, putting her head in her hands. The owner of the bed – Lavender Brown – stirred and opened her eyes. "What the…" She grabbed her wand and muttered, "Lumos." The beam of light that exploded from the end of her wand made Hermione squint, and Lavender gasped. "Hermione? What are you doing here?"

This spoken question woke the rest of the dormitory. Soon, Pavarti Patil, Rachel Prewett (Ron and Ginny's cousin), and Morag MacDougal were staring over at Lavender's bed and at Hermione.

"Uh… you're Head Girl, Mione. What are you doing back here?" Pavarti asked, echoing her best friend's question.

Morag rolled her eyes. "Can't you see she's upset?" Then, she looked shrewdly at Hermione. "Harry will be back soon. He always finds a way."

Hermione smiled through her tears. "Thanks, Morag. But that's not all… they're all gone. All of them," she finally managed to get out, starting a fresh wave of tears. Lavender, being the closest, put an arm around her. "It's okay, Hermione. Who else is gone?" She tried to look just mildly interested for Hermione's sake, but Hermione could tell Lavender was scared, too.

"Ron, Neville, and Ginny," Hermione answered. "Gone. Just like Harry."

The girls all gasped. "Oh, no," breathed Rachel. "No."

Hermione just nodded and started sobbing. Not knowing what else to do, Lavender wrapped her in a hug. Soon, all Hermione could feel was support from all sides. Now thoroughly exhausted emotionally, Hermione succumbed to the weariness emanating within her, hoping that she would see her love in her dreams. Morag was right – he always found a way back. Even though he was gone, she could still feel him alive, and that was all that mattered.

_Are you gently sleeping here inside my dreams?_

_And isn't faith believing all power can't be seen?_

_As my heart holds you just one beat away,_

_I cherish all you gave me every day_

_'Cause you are mine, forever love_

_watching__ me from up above_

_and__ I believe that angels breathe_

_and__ that love will live on and never leave_

_---_

Harry stirred uncomfortably in the dark, dank cell. He looked up at the tiny opening in his cell and saw that it was nearly daybreak. The dementors had gone to a different part of the prison, for which Harry was glad. This gave him some, albeit very little, sanity to ponder over what exactly was going on in the world outside. He wished he had a _Daily Prophet_ with him or something; it would help to settle his mind further. He had no clue what Voldemort was up to, except that he was planning to do terrible things to Harry – that's why he was here in this cell. As the color of the sky changed ever so subtly, his thoughts drifted again to Hermione. Oh, how his arms ached from emptiness and longing – he felt a part of him was missing without her in his loving embrace. He wished, so selfishly, that she could be here with him, because he didn't want to be without her for one more moment. He wished he could be there for her, to hold her and whisper in her ear that it would all be okay, to wipe the tears he knew would be there; Harry knew the others had been taken. Harry's green eyes traveled to the top of his cell again, watching the sky slowly lighten. _Please, just keep her safe,_ he implored any higher power that could hear him. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the hard wall, wishing he could be where Hermione was.

His eyes shot open when he heard movement outside the cells. Death Eaters were coming around. Wishing he had his wand, Harry stayed low to the ground, his instincts buzzing, his scar prickling. Soon, the pain Harry associated with having Voldemort in the vicinity appeared, as sharp as ever, and he looked up to see the man – if you could call Voldemort a man – himself staring down at Harry.

"Sleep well, Potter?" he asked, in his high, cruel voice.

Harry glared at him and spit at his feet, incensing Voldemort. "Now, now, there is no need for cheek. I think that calls for a lesson. _Crucio_!"

Voldemort aimed his wand at Harry, who instantly started twitching as white-hot pain seared throughout his senses. He could faintly hear himself screaming, but the pain was so intense that he could barely concentrate on anything else. Harry could feel his eyes rolling back in his head, his mouth full of blood, his mind willing, begging, pleading for the pain to stop. And, just as suddenly, it did.

As gracefully as he could, considering the circumstances, Harry looked up at Voldemort again, ignoring the pain in his scar – that was nothing compared to what he had just been through. He saw Voldemort smiling a truly evil smile, and frowned, seeing as he had no more strength to be angry.

"That should do for now, Potter," he hissed softly. "However, I thought you might enjoy this." He tossed a piece of paper to the ground and disappeared. Scrambling to reach it, Harry finally grabbed it and read it eagerly… then gasped and almost became sick. The Dark Mark was floating evilly over a house… a house he _knew_… a house too familiar to be a strangers' residence. He wanted desperately to comb the whole paper, cover to cover, to see what else was going on, but he found he just couldn't. His mind faded into unconsciousness again, with only one thought: _Hermione_.

**Now, baby, there are times when, selfishly,**

**I wish that you were here with me**

**So I could wipe the tears from your eyes and make you see**

**That every night while you are dreaming**

**I'm here to guard you from afar**

**And anytime I feel alone,**

**I close my eyes and dream of where you are…**

---

****

Hermione awoke to hands shaking her urgently. "Hermione, you need to get up."

"Huh?" she asked sleepily, confused at her surroundings. Four sets of eyes were staring at her with concern; two blue, two brown. And then it all came back to her – everything that she had lost. "What? What is it? Did they find him? Are they back?"

Sadly, Morag shook her head. "No. The Headmaster needs to see you right away."

Professor McGonagall accompanied her to the Headmaster's office. "Miss Granger, you have to remember that everything will be alright. We have Order of the Phoenix members working relentlessly to find Potter, the Weasleys, and Longbottom. We will find them. Don't give up faith. Remember, you are all Gryffindors. You all possess the courage to get through this. Ice Mice," she then spoke to the statue in front of Dumbledore's office, and it opened obligingly. Professor McGonagall left her there, but Hermione swore she saw something in her Head of House's eyes – sadness? Pity? Whatever it was, it only lasted a second, and she was then being hoisted up into the office.

"Please have a seat, Miss Granger. I am afraid you are going to need it."

Professor Dumbledore looked grave. Too grave. Hermione's eyes narrowed. "What happened?"

"It is with deepest sympathy that I must give you this, Hermione," Dumbledore told her. "I know what turmoil you are going through, and I know this isn't going to make it any easier, but you have to know." And without another word, he handed her a copy of the morning newspaper, the _Daily Prophet_, and within seconds of reading the front page, Hermione collapsed in a fit of tears.

"No… anyone but them…"

She was embarrassed to be hysterical like this in front of the Headmaster of her school, but she had reached her breaking point. Voldemort had now taken everyone; her fiancé, her closest friends, and now her parents. The shimmering of the Dark Mark over her house glared up offendingly from the front page of the newspaper.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I am afraid, Hermione, that the Dark Lord is attempting to get to you to torture Harry. As you can see, he will stop at nothing to make him suffer. I am sorry to say that this means you must suffer as well."

"That… he… why… how…" Hermione's words reflected her thoughts, which were racing so fast that even she didn't know what she was thinking. Then a new, powerful emotion filled her: determination. "Professor, I won't let him."

A hint of a smile grazed the wise man's face. "I am glad for your resolve, Hermione. But you need to be guarded at all times, to protect yourself."

Hermione nodded. "I'll do anything to make sure Voldemort doesn't reach me."

A week later, the funeral for Hermione's parents was held. Members of the Order were there, to make sure Hermione was alright, as well as to pay respects to the newest victims of Voldemort's prejudice. Hermione was very grateful for that, but above all, she just wanted Harry next to her, squeezing her hand, supporting her. There had been no word at all on where he was, and even though she didn't want to believe that he was dead, hope was slowly faltering and failing.

When she returned to Hogwarts, she found it in preparations for the Christmas season, but she found there was nothing to celebrate; everything was gone. Everything had been taken from her; the one who had taken it all was now after her. Hermione just couldn't take it anymore – there was nothing else to live for. She knew she would die before letting Voldemort touch her, and at this rate, she found it the only logical solution.

So on a cold, rainy night in the middle of December, Hermione Granger set out to the middle of the Hogwarts grounds to take her life, unaware that her – and the rest of the Wizarding world's – salvation was racing desperately at the same time to save her.

---

Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived, could barely stand. He was bowed over the robes of what used to be a tall, skeletal man – not even a man – who had caused the destruction of countless lives over a period of many years. He was the one who they called "the Darkest wizard in a hundred years," and Harry had just defeated him. He couldn't think of how a simple Killing Curse could kill a man who feared death above everything; however, it might have been the fact that they shared blood, blood filled with the magic of a mother's love, that made it that Harry was the only one who could kill him. At any rate, Harry was exhausted in all aspects, but he knew he had one more person to see before he could rest.

_Hermione, I'm coming… just hold on. I'll be there. I'll be where you are soon, Hermione. Just hang on._

With those final thoughts, Harry took hold of Fawkes the phoenix and disappeared into thin air.

* * *

Explanations:

Lumos minimosa: "small light." A smaller, less harsh form of the Lumos spell, designed to give just enough light to not disturb sleeping people. (That's not a real spell, by the way. I made up the minimosa part.)

Ginerva M. Weasley: Ginny's real name. (Go to JKR's official website. It's there. The M stands for Molly – where I got that I forget, but that is also canon as her middle name. Go to the Lexicon, it's a great source of finding "canon" stuff)

Morag MacDougal: A first year when Harry/Ron/Hermione are first years. Doesn't say what house she's in. There's also evidence to suggest that there are five people per gender per house per year at Hogwarts (i.e.: fifth year Gryffindor males: Harry, Ron, Neville, Seamus, Dean), but JKR only specifies three Gryffindor girls in all her books. I added Morag because she didn't have a house and fit my needs. :D

Rachel Prewett (as Ron and Ginny's cousin): Not a canon character, although Mrs. Weasley's maiden name is Prewett (as in Gideon and Fabian Prewett). I'm assuming that Molly, Gideon and Fabian were siblings and that Rachel is the daughter of either Gideon or Fabian – if my other assumptions are correct in saying that these two were a little older than James and Lily Potter. I may write a fic that is Rachel-centric if I get enough inspiration, explaining her background, maybe going through her Hogwarts years. We'll see.

Okay, that's all. Review! Now! (Please? :D I tried hard on this, I really did.)


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